“I’ve got a different question. Did you interview Timothy B. McHanna, the manager of the defrauded savings bank in South Dakota?”
“Let me see,” he said, clicking on his computer. “Yes, he was interviewed, but apparently he never became a subject of an FBI investigation.”
“And?”
“That means we didn’t establish that he might have been engaged in any criminal activity.” He sounded so formal.
“I guess being gullible isn’t a crime yet,” I muttered. But it was lost on him. “Do you know where McHanna is now?”
“Let me look him up for you.” A moment later he said, “He’s an essential witness against Whitney-Davis, if that defendant ever shows up again. So we’ve kept track of him. McHanna now lives in New York City.”
He lived on the posh Upper West Side of Manhattan, inside a prewar residential building, one of those sporting a royal name written in stylish lettering on a long green canopy, with a uniformed doorman who opens your car door. McHanna had certainly come a long way from his $37,000-a-year job as manager of a small savings bank in a small dusty town in South Dakota. Additional inquiries brought me to his business: McHanna Associates, business consultants, located in the equally high-rent Financial District. A quick search of public records showed that the company had four employees and described its activities as “providing consulting services to foreign banks seeking correspondence and other business arrangements with U.S.-based banks, as well as providing other services to the banking industry.” McHanna Associates also provided “consultancy services to charities in the United States for their international banking needs.” Nice niche with plenty of opportunities, I thought. I decided to pay him a visit.
In a small and nicely decorated office, I introduced myself to the receptionist and mentioned the South Dakota savings bank and Whitney-Davis. “Mr. McHanna will see you now,” he soon said.
“Tim McHanna,” said a short, bald man in his late fifties, and gave me his hand for a firm shake as I walked into his office. His eyes were a dark brown. He was dressed in a tailored dark suit with a yellow tie. His initials were embroided on his button-down white shirt, and he wore golden cufflinks.
“I’m really ashamed that Whitney-Davis conned me,” he said without my asking. He was eager to give me his version. Too eager, I thought. I went over the history of his relationship with “Whitney-Davis” with him. No great discoveries here-the same story already chewed up by savings-bank examiners and the FBI.
I decided to change course. “Please tell me about your business,” I said in an interested tone. “I hear you’re providing services to foreign banks.”
Clearly relieved that I had changed the subject, McHanna launched into explaining his company. Due to increased U.S. trade with many foreign countries, overseas banks found it increasingly important to associate themselves with U.S. banks that could be their correspondents to collect on checks drawn on U.S.-based banks, and provide for all their other banking needs in the U.S. The relationship could be unidirectional or bidirectional, meaning that each bank at its discretion could decide whether to use the other bank for a given transaction. There was no exclusivity commitment by either bank.
“Do you provide additional services? I read someplace that you also assist charities.”
He hesitated for a moment. “Yes, in fact we do, but it’s not what we are promoting these days.” There was a subtly reluctant tone in his answer.
“Is business good?” I didn’t want to reveal that I had picked up on his lack of enthusiasm to elaborate.
“Can’t complain,” he replied.
Back at my office, I ran a quick check on McHanna. There was something about him that I didn’t like. Maybe it was because he had the sweetness of a funeral-home director. A newspaper interview I found far back in the LexisNexis database service increased my interest. A small savings-industry newsletter had interviewed McHanna during the period that Whitney-Davis was perpetrating his scam, but before it was discovered. In the interview, McHanna boasted how innovative and resourceful thinking could increase the profit base of a small savings bank. “We are developing additional investment vehicles for our customers that will add an international aspect to our line of products. We will enable our customers to invest in foreign currencies through Tempelhof Bank in Zurich, Switzerland. That’s why we hired the services of Mr. Harrington T. Whitney-Davis, a renowned financial advisor.”
Hello, my friend, I said to myself. I thought of a verse from the Bible my father had liked to quote: “Do two walk together, unless they have agreed?” We would soon see how these men had conspired.
I checked the FBI report again-nothing about Switzerland. Same went for the bank examiners. I double-checked with their agencies. Nothing in the file. I went to see McHanna again, unannounced. If he was happy to see me, he was doing a good job of hiding it. Instead, he looked concerned.
“Mr. McHanna, I forgot to ask you one other question,” I said. “In the end, did your savings bank in South Dakota finally launch the idea, offering your customers some foreign-currency investment opportunities?”
He was stunned. After he recovered, he said slowly, “Well, actually, we didn’t.”
“Why not?”
“If I remember correctly, the board didn’t think the product fit the needs of our customers. They were mostly farmers and small-business owners.”
“So the program was abandoned?”
“Yes. And right after that we discovered the fraud, and I tendered my resignation.”
Hmm. Brian DiLorenzo of the OTS told me that the savings bank had fired McHanna. What else might he have embellished?
“Have you seen or heard of Mr. Harrington T. Whitney-Davis since?”
McHanna turned his eyes to the window on his right and scratched his nose. “No.”
My friend, I thought, your mouth says no, but your body says yes.
I remembered the course about body language taught by the Mossad psychologist. Research has shown that many, but not all, people tell the truth when they look to the left trying to remember events. When they look to the right they rely more on their imagination, and therefore they’re either intentionally lying or their answers cannot be relied upon. If a person questioned touches any part of his or her body, that indicates stress and the likelihood of a lie. Look at the person’s pupils. They dilate when someone is lying. Same goes for a dry mouth that a person tries to moisten by licking his or her lips.
“And what about Tempelhof Bank? Do you still have any relationship with them?” I asked.
McHanna’s smile disappeared. “I’m not sure. I would need to check on that. Anyway, I don’t think it’s relevant to your investigation, Mr. Gordon. This information is a trade secret of my company, and has nothing to do with my former employment.”
He had a point, I thought, but I had plenty of them as well. He had just given me a reason to follow that lead and go to Switzerland.
CHAPTER SIX
David Stone refused outright when I reported my findings and asked for his authorization to go to Zurich. “You know the Swiss sensitivity when it comes to investigations by foreign agents,” he said.
“Of course I know. Article 273,” I said. The Swiss criminal code made it a criminal offense for anyone besides a Swiss official to question a witness within Switzerland, whether the case was criminal or civil.
“Right,” said David. He then reminded me, though we both knew I needed no reminding, that this law includes agents of foreign governments who attempt to obtain information about a client of a Swiss bank. Even if a client authorizes the Swiss bank to disclose information to a foreign government, the bank cannot divulge any information on that basis.
“So?” I said when he had finished.
“I just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page.”